Chapter Seven - Becoming a God

CHAPTER SEVEN

Becoming a God

WHEN YOU WIN enough, people start calling you a god.

When you believe them?

That’s when things get weird.

By now, Alexander had conquered the unconquerable.
Darius was dead. Persia was his.
He wasn’t just king of Macedonia anymore, he was King of Kings.

But something had shifted.

The war was no longer about territory. It wasn’t even about glory.
It was about transcendence.

And so, Alexander started changing.

He put on Persian robes.
Flowing silks, ornate jewels, tall headdresses, the full imperial drip.
To the Persians, it meant continuity. Respect.

To the Macedonians?

It meant their boy had gone full oracle.

They grumbled. Loudly.
Because nothing says “disconnect” like watching your war-hardened leader suddenly dress like he’s auditioning for a god-tier fashion week in Babylon.

Then came proskynesis.
The Persian tradition of bowing, sometimes all the way to the ground, before the king.

Alexander introduced it.

To the Persians, it was normal.
To the Greeks, it was blasphemy. You bow to gods, not men.

His companions resisted.
Some refused outright.
One even told him:

“I kneel to no man born of woman.”

Alexander didn’t lash out, yet.
But the rift had begun.

Because here’s the truth:

Alexander didn’t just want to rule the world.
He wanted to embody it.
To fuse East and West.
To become something new.

Human?
Divine?
Both?

He didn’t know.
And that uncertainty started bleeding into everything.

In Egypt, he visited the Oracle of Siwah.

Crossed the desert. No map. No guide. Nearly died of thirst.
But when he reached the temple, the priests welcomed him… like he’d been expected.

And when he asked if he was truly the son of Zeus?

The answer came. Soft, cryptic, and just vague enough to fuel an entire mythos:

“Yes.”

That was enough.

Alexander walked out changed.
Not just a king.
Not just a conqueror.

But a god.

At least in his own eyes.

And the higher he rose… the thinner the air became.